


Divinations From a Beach Dream

by totallycheesey



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M, Sad Tony, Stony - Freeform, this shit took me half a fucking year to finish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9110044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallycheesey/pseuds/totallycheesey
Summary: Tony rolled his eyes. His jaw unclenched as a smile crept over his own face. He could deal with positive emotion. He could banter. “You’ve always made things at least fifty times gayer than originally intended.”“Like what?” Steve cocked his head to the side, all playful curiosity. The light of his expression lifted the years of conflict and war off his features and left a bright man, a child of Helios who carried the sun in his eyes. There was no hatred within Steve, even after all these years; he was the only soldier Tony knew who was not jaded. He was lively and beautiful and Tony had to start telling the truth at some point, so why not now?“Me.”





	

           Tony tied a towel around his waist and pushed his wet hair back before exiting the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He met eyes with a man standing in the center of the small hotel room, arms crossed in passive threat.

            Mild anxiety kicking in, Tony masked with, “We’ve gotta stop meeting this way, Steve.” He flipped the switch and light cascaded over Steve’s shoulders, igniting his blonde hair and accentuating his grey civilian sweatshirt and jeans. “You could’ve at least turned the light on. Imagine if I still had heart problems.”

            Steve was unamused. “I came to talk.”

            “As opposed to beating my ass again? Because I could go for a good ass-whooping, it’s been a whole week.” Tony gestured over his own bare chest. “Still haven’t fully recovered since then, but I guess now is as good of a time as ever.”

            He could feel Steve’s mental cringe as he took in the devastation of Tony’s skin, splotched purple and yellow across the center and down the sides, a line of blue dotting a line over his neck as if to instruct _cut here!_

           Steve said, “I actually came to apologize.”

           “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” Tony forced down his omnipresent distaste. He would rather the entire matter blow over without dissolution into physical attack. “For?”

           “For everything.” One hand still gripping his opposite elbow in a half-crossed position, Steve used the other hand to worry at the bridge of his nose, eyes closing lightly enough for Tony to know that he was prepared for Tony to lash out in violence. Steve continued, “I haven’t been fair to you. I mean, the matter of government involvement within the Avengers is something we clearly cannot agree on, but the other things…” He swallowed and opened his eyes, glancing over the wall space beside Tony. “I really screwed you over.”

           Unimpressed, Tony said, “By _the other things_ , do you mean protecting the man who murdered my mother, or do you mean almost fucking killing me?”

           “I would never have killed you,” Steve said quickly.

           “If I hadn’t put my arm up at the right time, my head would’ve been gone.” Tony kneaded his fingers into the rolled edge of his towel, trying to keep his tone steady. “Towards the final hit. When you were still bashing me with the shield. I would have died. You would have killed me.” He took a step toward Steve, the distance between them reduced to some six feet. “You know it’s true.”

           Steve swallowed, not meeting Tony’s eyes.

           Tony took another step.

           A small sigh. Steve crossed his arms again, nails digging through the sweatshirt and into his biceps.

           Stepping forward once more, Tony looked up at Steve’s face defiantly, uncomfortably close. He could feel Steve’s breath brush across his cheeks, sharp and pained. Steve was always, always too restrained. Tony pulled Steve’s arms out of their crossed position and placed them by his sides. He paralleled the arms, straightened them and held them by the hands. As if it meant anything anymore. “At least look at me, Steve.”

           Steve jerked his head to the side, a clipped signal for _no_.

           “Goddammit, Cap.” Tony didn’t mean to sound wounded. This was supposed to be angry. It was all wrong, all of it. He wished Steve would call him out for cursing. He dabbed at his eyes. Dry. He had already cried himself out in the shower. “God fucking dammit.” He squeezed Steve’s hands and pushed his head into Steve’s shoulder. He took a shaky breath, calming the sobs that threatened to burst through his chest. He counted backward from four hundred. Three hundred ninety-nine, three hundred ninety-eight… That was enough to steady him. “You came to talk, so start talking,” he said, voice caught in Steve’s sweatshirt.

           He felt Steve breathe in, just as he had, before Steve spoke. “I singlehandedly tore apart the Avengers. From the inside out.” Finally, Steve’s hands squeezed Tony’s back. “I know Bucky is my friend. I know he always will be. But so were you, and all the people I fought against. We were supposed to be a team and I betrayed all of you to keep my friend safe from the government. I traded the protection of the world for a guy who had trouble remembering me.”

           “Is he safe now?”

           Tony felt Steve shift with surprise, a sudden strain of muscles. “Does it matter?”

           Pulling away from Steve, Tony let go of his hands. His naked chest prickled at the lack of heat, an awareness of his toweled state. Tony looked up at Steve and shook his head. “You came back. That’s all that matters to me.”

           It was the first smile he had seen on Steve’s face in over a month. “You make it sound romantic.”

           Tony rolled his eyes. His jaw unclenched as a smile crept over his own face. He could deal with positive emotion. He could banter. “You’ve always made things at least fifty times gayer than originally intended.”

          “Like what?” Steve cocked his head to the side, all playful curiosity. The light of his expression lifted the years of conflict and war off his features and left a bright man, a child of Helios who carried the sun in his eyes. There was no hatred within Steve, even after all these years; he was the only soldier Tony knew who was not jaded. He was lively and beautiful and Tony had to start telling the truth at some point, so why not now?

          “Me.”

           He watched as confusion ran through Steve’s skin like a shock, then gave way to calculation. Then, sadness.

           Tony wasn’t the type to shy away from being blunt. Still, he felt his cheeks burning as Steve pulled him into a hug. He completed the embrace weakly, Steve’s hands almost desperate against Tony’s back, fingers clenched against the bone of his spine. Steve whispered, “I’m sorry.”

           “Not your fault.” Because of Steve’s height, Tony was speaking into a shoulder rather than open air.

           Steve shook his head. “I can’t keep messing things up for you, man.”

           “It’s all a little better now.”

           Cringing silently, Tony felt as Steve dug his hands harder into his back. This big, muscular behemoth-ass man was clearly distraught and searching for more than consolation. Quickly, Tony said, “Well, if you really want to make it up to me-”

           “Anything,” Steve interjected. His grip lessened and Tony was able to breathe properly once more.

           After taking a moment to fully restore his oxygen supply, Tony said, “Kiss me.”

           Keeping his arms around Tony, Steve leaned back from the hug to look Tony in the face. “Seriously?”

           “You wanna make me happy or not?” Not that Tony would ever object to a kiss from the Cap, but the larger part of his insistence was based on pacification of Steve’s innate urge to please. Tony couldn’t live with himself if he knew Steve was still plagued by guilt. Plus, he didn’t want to lose the ability to breathe again due to the Cap’s distress. He smacked Steve on the ass roughly, earning a yelp. “Kiss me, goddammit!”

           Determination set in Steve’s eyes, he said, “Quiet, Tony,” before meeting Tony’s lips in a soft, plain kiss. Tony remained objective, only reciprocating where the Cap ventured, which was limited to simple motions of the lips that clearly were getting nowhere where Tony had anticipated. It was nice, sure, but there was no “flaming passion.” Or tongue.

           Tony ripped away from the kiss. “You’re holding back on me. Or, at least, I hope you are. Otherwise, I hate to break it to you but the ladies are very, very dissatisfied.”

           “No, I was holding back.” Steve gently roamed his hands over Tony’s back, nails tracing light trails into the dips and rivets of muscle. Tony noted the dilation of Steve’s pupils. _Indication of arousal,_ he imagined Jarvis chipping in. _Mr. Stark, it appears that the Captain reciprocates your need._ Jerking Tony from his mental notes, Steve moved his hands downward until they met the border made by Tony’s towel. He toyed with the hem. “I didn’t know you wanted more.”

           Cheeks burning, Tony said, “You’re much more into this than I envisioned.”

           Steve gave him a sideways smile. It was weird, to see Steve so _devious._ Not bad, by any means; just strange. “So… You imagined something like this happening before.”

           Swallowing, Tony said, “You could say that.”

           “What exactly did you imagine?” Steve tugged at the towel, only hard enough to let Tony know that it was prone to fall.

           Tony realized his hand was still on Steve’s ass. He moved it up to the safe-zone of Steve’s back to join his other hand and let out a nervous laugh. “Alice, that’s a rabbit hole you probably don’t want to explore.”

           “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me now,” Steve said, eyes bright and wild. “Promise to tell me later?”

           Cornered, Tony nodded. He could feel his anxiety mounting. He took a deep breath. God, around Steve it seemed that he was always concentrating on breathing. It would be so easy to go along with what Steve was aiming for, but he knew he had to pop the question now, before it was too late. He asked, “Is this really something you want, or are you just appeasing me because I asked you to kiss me? Because I don’t want you to feel guilty about the fight. Which is why I told you to kiss me in the first place.” Steve’s hands fell away from Tony’s body. Tony let go, too. “We can’t just kiss and make up. It’s me saying that, Steve, not the playboy. And it’s not that what you’re doing is wrong because, to state things eloquently, I’d let you fuck me in a heartbeat. But it’s not going to fix things. This isn’t going to dissolve all our problems. It’ll just put them off to be dealt with at another time.”

            The seriousness was back in Steve’s face. He slowly took a step back from Tony, hands pushing into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “You’re right.” Steve’s eyes closed in resolve. “Listen, the last thing I want to do is to hurt you again, but-”

            “I know what you’re gonna say, so just say it.” Tony’s voice was level.

            Steve’s eyes sunk to the floor. “I don’t love you.”

            Tony kept his vision directed toward the same section of carpet that Steve watched. “That’s fine. I think you should go now.”

            He didn’t watch as Steve slid out the window, the entry point that Tony hadn’t noticed was open until now. The window remained ajar as Steve’s silhouette flitted out of sight from the corner of Tony’s vision, a square of night patching the floor. Goosebumps coated Tony’s bare skin. How late was it? He listened for more movement from Steve outside, greeted by the cold of silence. He was thankful.

            Softly, he brushed the back of his hand against his eyes. Wet.

 

 

            Two weeks passed before Tony heard from Steve again, and when he did, it wasn’t from Steve in person. He slid into his Audi after a meeting with Rhodey about the development of stronger alloys to use within the Iron Man and War Machine suits (“They need to be stronger,” said Rhodey, to which Tony replied, “Fuck you, I’m Iron Man.” Still, Tony agreed that Rhodey’s suit needed heavier armor, though he resisted modifications to his own Iron Man design in regards of metals because, in his words, “I’m sure as hell not gonna be called Vibranium Man.”) and then noticed a piece of paper slipped under the right windshield wiper. After retrieving the note, Tony buckled back into the car and locked the doors. White sketchbook paper; it definitely wasn’t a parking ticket. He unfolded the sheet and read:

            _I know I have hurt you in ways that I cannot understand. Regardless, I think it is in both of our best interests that we maintain a healthy friendship. I felt awful about leaving you in that room. I still do. I apologize fully, but you know as well as I do that the heart is uncontrollable. Otherwise, I would, without hesitation, choose to love you._

_We need to talk more. Become good again, together. Once we can heal each other, I believe that we can reunite the Avengers. I haven’t told those who I have broken out that I have contacted you since the fight, but they know that I hurt you, and I can tell that they do not approve. In other words, no matter what grudges exist between you and Clint, Scott, Sam, and Wanda, none of them want to see you in pain. We all want to work together again, whether we want to admit it or not. Even the Accords cannot change that._

_Please contact me using the following number: X(XXX)XXX-XXXX. The line is secure._

_I hope that we can become each other’s strengths rather than weaknesses._

_Sincerely,_

_Steve_

            Part of Tony wanted to be sick. The other part was rushing with euphoria at the opportunity to speak with Steve once more. In any case, he slipped the note into his glove compartment and drove to a different hotel, as he had for the past month.

 

 

            He put off calling Steve until midnight had already come and gone. Tony put the phone to his ear after dialing and listened for ringing from the other line. Before the dial tone could even sound, Steve asked, “Hello?”  
            “It’s Tony.” Tony squinted as he tried to picture Steve’s setting. “Am I hearing rain?”

            “Yeah. It’s morning here. Sunrise, actually. You wouldn’t think of rain as being beautiful but it’s all caught in the orange and pink from the clouds. It’s nice.”

            Tony’s guarded tone drifted. He could easily track Steve down by his descriptions of time and weather, pinpoint his location, find Bucky and turn him in to the government. The fact that Steve gave him such detail let Tony know that Steve trusted him not to. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sounds nice. It’s around one in the morning here.”

            “Why are you calling so late? You need to sleep, Tony.”

            Tony bit his lip. “Insomnia.”

            The rainy static from the other end of the line grew heavier. Through the downpour, Steve asked, “Are you taking your medicine?”

            Irritation gripped Tony’s body like a vice. “You’re not my mom, asshole.” What he wanted to say was _if you don’t love me, then why the hell do you care?_

            Steve immediately picked up on the meaning beneath Tony’s defensiveness. “I’m just trying to help you out. It’s what friends do. And that’s what I’m trying to be.” Tony didn’t say anything. Steve sighed with frustration. “That’s what I’m trying to get back, but you have to help me.”

            “All you’re doing is giving me false hope that somehow things will actually work between us.” There was his trusty anger, doing its best to mask the hurt. “Cut the shit, Cap. We can’t operate together. Not while I still…”

            “…have feelings for me,” Steve finished.

            As if Steve were in the room with him, Tony nodded. “We can’t be friends when we both know that I want more. I wish I didn’t. You don’t know how much I want to be able to leave it all behind.” The anger was breaking down like Alka-Seltzer. Tony couldn’t stop talking, even as he began to gasp. “I want this to stop. I want to be friends and I want things to be good but I fucking can’t, man.” Sobs rattled his lungs, whispering quietly between his teeth. He hoped they didn’t reach the mouthpiece of the phone. His eyes burned. “I’m in love with the guy who decided to withhold information on the death of my parents rather than tell me the fucking truth. How fucked up is that?” Steve remained silent. Tony whispered, “Leave me alone, goddammit,” and hung up, tears streaming down his cheeks in salty rivets.

 

 

            The next morning, he found a new note on the windshield of his Audi. Nausea rose in his throat as he unfolded the sketchbook paper to read Steve’s thoughts on the night before:

            _I didn’t know I was instilling false hope. I’m sorry._

            Tony carefully tore the note into two equal halves before tossing it to the ground. He pulled out his phone and manually texted Steve’s number to “stop apologizing and don’t fucking bother me anymore.” He was done with Steve’s bullshit. If avoiding complete emotional destruction meant severing ties with the Cap, that was fine by him. He shut himself into the car and turned the radio on full-blast before speeding away, as if to escape.

 

 

            After crossing into Virginia, the music of the old-rock radio station lowered in volume and Jarvis said, “Mr. Stark, you have a call coming in from an unknown number. Would you like to answer or decline?”

            Tony’s grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles stretching from their stiffness. He had been driving for over five hours in a manual mode, and it was becoming a strain. “Put me on the line.”

            Steve’s voice was immediate and frantic, blasting from all speakers within the Audi. “Tony! Thank God you picked up, I was worried that something-”

            “Jesus Christ, Jarvis, turn down the volume! Fuck.” Tony ran a hand through his hair as Steve’s voice receded to a consumable level. “Worried about what, Steve?”

            “Worried that something happened, or that you did something.”

            His eyebrow shot up, brushing the frame of his aviators. Steve’s freakout was getting amusing. “Did something?”

            “I don’t know, Tony. You’re a card.”

            “Like a wildcard?”

            Steve was starting to slow down. Tony could hear him catching his breath. The initial anxiety had passed. “No, like a card.”

            Tony accelerated the car. The highway was empty and besides, the evasive procedures he had installed within the car’s computer were more than enough to handle a cop. He wasn’t normally into breaking the law but at the moment, he didn’t care. He had agreed to the Accords. He was the good guy. It didn’t matter. Over the engine’s increasing roar, he said, “You know, sometimes I forget that you belong in the geriatric ward. That Super Serum is fucking majestic, keeping you youthful and whatnot.” He noted a sign for the approaching exit and decided to follow it in hopes of finding a bar and a Holiday Inn. There was a reason he had installed the technology to permit his car to drive itself. “Sucks that you can’t get drunk, though. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this awkward relationship thing if you were able to get slammed with me. People do gay shit when they’re drunk all the time. Call it a mistake in the morning, and it’s all fine and forgiven and forgotten. Wish we could’ve had something like that. Wish we could’ve made mistakes.” He let bitterness inflate his tone. “But no, you’re too damn perfect.”

            “Can we meet again? Please?” Steve sounded composed, but Tony could feel the undercurrent of desperation. “We need to talk face-to-face. I promise, it’ll be better this time.”

            Easing up on the gas, Tony directed the car down the lane connecting to the approaching exit. “Your promises don’t mean much to me anymore.” As Steve got ready to respond, Tony quickly added, “However, I’ll give you the address of the hotel I’m heading to.”

            “Thanks, Tony. God, thanks. But I do have to ask…” Steve paused for a couple of seconds, apparently lost in his own head. Then, he asked, “Why are you giving me another chance?”

            Laughing joylessly, Tony took the exit and said, “I’m not giving you another chance, I’m just a lovestruck fool.”

 

 

            Tony woke to the sound of someone pounding at the door. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm and checked the alarm clock. 4:52 AM. He peeled back the stiff hotel sheets and stretched before getting up to open the door. “You made good time,” he said to Steve, who stood tiredly in the much-too-bright hallway. “Pull an all-nighter?”

            “Three,” Steve said miserably. A tremor shot through his body, eyes awakening briefly to his sunny self before he sunk back into a wilted state.

            Eyebrows knitting with concern, Tony said, “We don’t have to talk right now. I’m tired as fuck too, so let’s go to sleep. I can pull out the couch. You just get in the bed.” He pressed himself against the wall as Steve crossed into the threshold, large in presence and swaying from exhausting.

            Steve stepped toward the bed and turned back to Tony blearily. “I’m not taking your only bed.”

            “We don’t have time to argue. And I’m not putting my guest on the couch.” Tony crossed his arms. Hell, his morals may be more than questionable, but Tony’s parents certainly didn’t raise him to give his guests the short end of the stick.

            “Just get in bed with me, Tony.” Steve sat at the bottom corner of the mattress, already unlacing his shoes.

            Tony remembered the tension of talking to Steve when he was awake. He thought of the ambiguity between them in the moment, the question marks seeped between the sheets, especially since both of them would be down to the boxers in the same small space for an extended period of time. He anticipated the awkwardness of waking up next to Steve.

            And what Tony said was, “That’s certainly an offer I cannot refuse,” before heading to his side of the bed and slipping back into a sleeping position, lying on his side to face away from where Steve would be.

            His eyes were shut by the time he felt the weight of Steve’s body indent the mattress on the opposite side of the bed. Steve slid in and rolled over, back meeting Tony’s between the shoulders. Tony forced his muscles to untense themselves, forced himself to keep his eyes closed. Steve merely adjusted himself before exhaling in a gentle sigh, immediately reduced to a light state of sleep as Tony pondered the heat between their bodies, back-to-back, calm, silent as the night swept Tony away too.

 

 

            In the dream, they were always standing beside each other, facing the same direction. They were on a beach, toes dug into white tufts of sand as sea oats bent around their knees. They were standing in the dunes. The sun sunk behind a growing tuft of storm clouds, leaving the predominant color of the setting a stagnant, metallic grey. The sky rumbled. It was like they were trapped in a bad painting, the kind Tony’s mom would have hung over the washer or in the bathroom.

            Tony always looked over to his left, where Steve stood. He asked, “What happens now?”

            The sky growled again, wind whipping sand across Tony’s back. Steve said nothing.

 

 

            Tony sat up. He immediately turned to the space beside him to find its occupant missing. Thank God. He rolled out of bed and began sifting through his suitcase for pants, mind settling idly on daily matters, like the fact that he sorely needed to do his laundry because it had been over a week since his last load and he only had enough clothes to make it through tomorrow. He pulled out a set of dark jeans and a wifebeater that had been stained from years of working with mechanics.

            He had just zipped up the jeans when Steve walked out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth with a towel around his waist. Tony buttoned his pants and said, “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

            “You’re awake!” Steve responded through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. Tony shot a sheepish smile as Steve turned on the television and tuned to the news channel, now detailing a miracle bank robbery that involved the detonation of twelve sticks of dynamite yet resulted in no fatalities. Steve was instantly captured, toothbrush dangling from between his lips as his arms crossed over his chest, his natural listening position. The sun had returned to his face, coloring his features in bright glimmer from the inside. It seemed as though his spirit had been replenished with sleep.

            The grin immediately slouched into a frown as Tony picked up the alarm clock. 1:29 PM. “How the fuck did I sleep in so late?”

            “Man, I thought you slipped into a coma for a while. Almost called 911.” Steve twirled the toothbrush between his fingers. “I guess I’m just that good of a sleeping partner. At least, I haven’t gotten any negative feedback yet.”

            “You really know how to make a girl feel special.” Tony stretched. “And that better not be my fucking toothbrush you’re using.”

            Steve made a disgusted face. “Ew, Tony. It was a spare under the sink. It was still wrapped.” He jammed the toothbrush back between his teeth and swirled it around, apparently satisfied by its work as he turned to head back into the bathroom.

            “What, you don’t swallow?” Tony called after Steve, who he heard spitting into the sink, immediately followed by muffled laughter.

             Tony watched the news without much interest until Steve came back into the room, still toweled. Steve stood by Tony in front of the television set and Tony was instantly reminded of the dream. They were on the right sides, right position. The urge to clasp Steve’s hand in his own was stifling. Tony bit his lip in guilt.

              “You talk in your sleep,” Steve said.

              “Really?” Tony kept his eyes on the frothy televised action, a good chunk of which was obscured by static snow. Box sets always fucked with his vision, but it was better than looking directly at Steve and wondering what he looked like without the towel. “What did I say?”

              Steve’s hand slid over Tony’s. Their fingers curled together like an involuntary reaction. Tony was ready to puke. “You kept saying something about sand. Do you have dreams about Afghanistan?”

              He shook his head. “I don’t think about it much anymore. Used to have night terrors, but now all my dreams are the same.”

              “Are they good?”

              Tony sighed. His hand felt calm in Steve’s, but he could hear his heart pounding in his ears like a damn Nicki Minaj single. “I don’t know yet.” He flexed his fingers and decided to brave eye contact with the Captain. “Look, this is nice and all, but is the handholding your way of toying with me?”

              A wry smile pulled at Steve’s lips. He used his free hand to turn off the television, leaving them in relative silence before fully facing Tony. The two were now directly in front of one another, about a foot separating them. “Now I can say what I came here to say.”

             “Oh fuck, you’re pregnant. Dammit Steve, I knew we should’ve used protection…”

             The smile stayed. “Tony, I really appreciate the nervous humor, but could you hold out for a minute?”

             Tony nodded. His heart pulsed so hard that it felt as though it bruised him from the inside. “Yeah. Sorry.”

             Steve took a deep breath. “Okay. So, you know how I originally told you that things wouldn’t work out between us?”

             “Because you don’t love me. Yes. I distinctly remember the point at which my heart shattered into a thousand splintery little pieces.”

             A glare. Tony shot a remorseful expression (like he could help being a snarky bastard) and Steve exhaled. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I’ve come to the conclusion that I was wrong. I mean, damn, Tony, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you confessed. I mistook it for general concern for a while. And then I realized that it was probably something more.”

             Why wouldn’t his heart slow the fuck down? Tony’s hands had better keep from shaking. “What exactly spurred this realization?”

             Steve’s smile faded to a new expression, one that Tony had never seen on his face before. It was stern, yet somehow sheepish. “Do you really want to know?”

             “In detail.” Tony’s hopes were wide and high with a BPM measurement to match.

             Steve’s eyes squinted shut. His hand gripped tightly around Tony’s, where sweat began to manifest. “I thought about your lips. A lot.”

             “And?” A wolfish grin yanked at the corner of Tony’s lips. “C’mon, don’t spare me.”

             “Lips. Eyes. Muscles. You know, the works.”

             Tony didn’t miss a beat. “And what exactly were those parts _doing_?”

             Steve opened his eyes, a restrained wildness locked beneath. “Please, Tony.”

            “Please? We’re already down to begging, Cap? Damn, I don’t even remember us hitting second-base and you’re running home.”

            Steve rushed forward and Tony’s smug fucking smile was covered by Steve’s lips, pressing tightly before exposing teeth, snaking his tongue into Tony’s grin, Tony’s expression shifting into one of pleasure, everything too much, not enough, all there and hitting in the right places. Anger wasn’t omnipresent in this kiss as it had been in the first; this was more in the spirit of eliminating needs, satisfaction, celebration. Steve liked him. Steve liked him. Steve liked him.

            Tony nipped Steve’s bottom lip and earned a groan. He leaned out of the kiss and let go of Steve’s hand to run his hands up his abs, stopping at the pectorals with his palms flat against the hard muscles. “You really do have the best boobs on the team.”

            “Better not tell Natasha that,” Steve mumbled, breathing in sharply when Tony ran a thumb over his left nipple. Tony moved forward and licked up the center of Steve’s chest, deviating to the right to swirl his tongue around the nipple. It was just beginning to harden under Tony’s ministrations when Steve grabbed Tony by the hair and pulled him off. “Better things you could put your mouth on,” he explained, eyes wild.

            Dropping to his knees, Tony looked up at Steve, bones already grinding into the cheap hotel flooring. He hooked a thump into the side of Steve’s towel and edged downward, skin spilling over the cotton. “May I?” Steve nodded and Tony unwrapped the towel carefully, pulling apart the folds to reveal the warmth beneath. He took in the sight of Steve, impressed, and shot him a crooked smile.

            Steve was amused. “I’ve been told,” he agreed, returning the grin. He pushed his right hand through Tony’s hair, settling on the scalp. “You wanna set the tone for me?”

            “Well, I was thinking to go for sexy with a touch of teasing. You know, the classic scheme to get you to slap me around a little later on. But at the same time, I don’t know if the teasing’ll last terribly long because I’m getting ridiculously eager and-”

            Steve tugged on Tony’s hair gently, bringing their eyes to meet. “Let me rephrase that: you wanna set the _pace_ for me?”

            Tony swallowed. He could tell Steve was eyeing up his throat, anticipation building in his shaky fingers. “Of course, Captain.” He curled his right fist around the base of Steve’s length tentatively and felt Steve shudder. “Yeah, yeah, I know I’m good, but could you dial it down a little? I haven’t even licked you yet.”

            “Your hand is cold.”

            “Oh.” Tony blushed and let go of Steve’s cock. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the head gently before revealing his tongue, lapping slowly in short lines that curved upwards.

            “I feel like a lollipop,” Steve commented blandly.

            Tony leaned back and looked up at Steve. “But you aren’t gonna color my mouth blue.” He paused before quirking an eyebrow and snickered, “Wait, wait; _red_ , _white_ , and blue.” He felt Steve’s hand card through his hair before tugging upward just hard enough to sting. “Okay, Captain Impatience, I’ll suck your dick!” Tony took a breath and licked a long stripe from the base of Steve’s cock to the head, the doubled back down by an inch to tease at the frenulum, lips undulating around the skin as his tongue worked in circles. He felt Steve’s grip tighten in his hair and resisted the urge to laugh; the Cap was all his. He braced his tongue against his front lower teeth and curled his lips over the edges before taking Steve into his mouth, rolling his tongue gently to tease the underside. He was a good three inches in… He swallowed thickly around Steve and earned a shaky sigh, then pressed forward another two inches. Tony could feel Steve hit the back of his throat, so he propped his chin upward to angle Steve’s cock down farther into his mouth, deepthroating what he could and massaging what he couldn’t with his hand.

            “Oh… Fuck, Stark…” Steve panted wetly, hips jolting forward into Tony’s open mouth. “Fuck. More, Tony, please…”

            Withdrawing and allowing Steve’s cock to pop out from between his lips, Tony said, “I just don’t understand why we haven’t done this before now. Why couldn’t you have had your love epiphany when Ultron attacked? Would’ve saved me a lot of sexual tension, that’s for fucking sure.” He saw the irritation rise in Steve’s expression, and it took all of Tony’s willpower not to smile at the imminent success of his plan.

            Impatiently, Steve gripped Tony’s hair and pulled him back onto his cock, a surprised noise issuing from Tony’s mouth before Steve’s cock shoved back between Tony’s lips, through his wet mouth, and towards the back of his hot throat. “You talk too goddamn much,” Steve hissed, fucking into Tony’s mouth. “So fucking good with your mouth.”

            The sudden roughness was completely welcomed by Tony, who moaned softly around Steve, lips stretched wide. Why the hell else would he have provoked the Captain by taking so goddamn long to start sucking? Tony _loved_ sucking cock, and this just took things to the next level. Drool dribbled from both corners of his mouth and his eyes watered as Steve hit the back of his throat again, so he angled himself as he had before and Steve’s cock coasted deep into his throat without smacking into the back. Tony’s moved one hand down to work Steve’s balls while the other crawled around Steve’s back, dropping to massage his right asscheek. Steve fucked into Tony with particular vigor and Tony’s nails dug into Steve’s ass.

            Steve said, voice cracking with Tony’s movements, “You can tell me to stop at any point if I’m being too rough on you, but something tells me that you like this. Were you provoking me earlier, when you were being so goddamn talkative? Is this what you wanted? Because it feels so fucking good to me, and I can see in your eyes that you love it too.” Tony smacked his ass and Steve hissed. “I shouldn’t be surprised; you’ve always seemed the kinky type. It’s like I could _smell_ it on you the first time we met. Rich kid with high-maintenance needs; does that sound about right?”

            Tony groaned around Steve’s cock, jaw sore from the exertion. He swallowed again, concentrating on breathing through his nose as Steve yanked him forward by the hair, kneading both hands into the back of his head to fuck Tony’s face onto his cock. Tony dropped his hands from Steve’s body and allowed himself to be used, arms dangling limply by his sides as his eyes rolled back and Steve fucked mercilessly into his throat. He wanted the Captain to cum so fucking bad, wanted to feel it seep down his throat and know that he had been fucked in this way, mouth so good and taught around Steve’s cock that he had made the Captain cum…

            And then Steve let go of Tony altogether, removing his cock from Tony’s mouth. Voice fucked-out, Tony asked indignantly, “What the hell, man?”

            “You’re gonna make me cum,” Steve mumbled, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut in concentration, as if to will himself back from the edge.

            Tony cocked his head. “And?”

            “Babe, we still have a long way to go.”

            “Aw, you called me babe. That’s sweet.” Tony smirked. “But, more importantly, you are one kinky son of a bitch. I didn’t know if you would actually react in the way that I wanted you to, but I sure as hell am glad that you did.” He grinned mischievously. “Was that your first time trying something like that?” Tony stood and pressed up against Steve, a hand running over Steve’s chest. “Did you enjoy fucking into my mouth hard enough to make me choke?”

            Steve’s eyes opened and he leaned forward to meet Tony in another kiss, hands pushing up beneath Tony’s wifebeater as Tony’s tongue teased into his mouth. Steve pressed his tongue against Tony’s blithely before dipping below, teasing from beneath before Steve pulled away for a moment to remove Tony’s top. “You know, I thought I would drag all this out and be all sweet and romantic about our first time together, but I think you’ve ruined me.”

            “You’re so _bad_ ,” Tony mumbled as Steve kissed his neck and unbuttoned Tony’s pants, shoving his boxers down along with the jeans. Tony stepped out and kicked the garments aside. Steve sucked sharply against the space between Tony’s neck and shoulder, and Tony gasped.

            Withdrawing, Steve wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand and said, “First bruise I’ve given you out of affection instead of hate. Pretty fucked up, right?”

            “Captain, your language!” But Tony understood. He rubbed the place where he knew a fresh red mark bloomed, warm and almost wet.

            “You didn’t care when I was fucking your mouth.”

            Tony nodded. “Yeah, well. Let’s step out of this sudden angst and get to the part where you rail me so hard I scream.”

            “Of course.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Lube?”

            “Check the duffle.”

            Steve walked to the dresser, on top of which sat the bag Tony lived from. He placed the duffle on the bed and pawed through its contents. A minute passed. “Fuck,” Steve mumbled impatiently before overturning the bag, spilling it across the comforter. He shuffled through shirts, pants, a set of Oakley’s. Nothing.

            Sighing, Tony opened the closet and pulled a hotel-issued bathrobe off a hanger. “I probably left it in the car. I’ll be right back.” He slipped on the matching slippers from the floor of the closet and tied the waist of the robe closed.

            “Don’t be long,” Steve called as Tony pulled the door closed behind him quietly. The click of the lock pulled through Tony’s system like the kick of a shotgun. He rubbed the mark on his neck again, wondering, before turning to find the parking garage. Numbered doors fled past the edges of his vision. Tony realized he was running. _Are you really this desperate to get laid? Fucking loser._ But there was the edge of something else at the back of his mind, cutting like a blade.

             The dream: Tony and Steve, side-by-side, watching the turmoil of a beach unravel.

             What happened: Tony and Steve, side-by-side, watching the turmoil of a newscast unravel.

             “What now?” Tony would ask. Steve would say nothing. The dream would end.

             But here was Tony, panting through the halls, shoving through the door to the stairwell. Almost tripping down the top stair in his blind rush. Panic. Mania. What now? What now?

             He reached the bottom more quickly than what was safe. He pushed through another door. He could already see the Audi, parked in the left corner of the garage. One of his slippers caught on the cement and nearly caused him to fall. Tony impatiently kicked off the shoes and marched barefoot to his vehicle.

             “Welcome back, Mr. Stark,” Jarvis greeted when Tony touched the door of the driver’s side. The door flew open. Tony fell into his seat and latched his seatbelt, door automatically shutting around him as he activated the ignition. The lube wasn’t in the car. Wasn’t in the duffle. Hell, he hadn’t carried lube in the past month at all.

             He thought of Steve checking the time on the alarm clock impatiently, still hard, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. Thinking he could pull an entire team back together by telling Tony he was in love, that they could fuck and it would all be better, it would all come back into one great big picture of love and heroics that could save the world over and over again. As if the Accords had never happened.

            “Bastard,” Tony mumbled as he put the car into manual mode, shifting into reverse.

            “Could you repeat that?” Jarvis asked patiently.

            “Nothing, nothing,” Tony said. He backed out, then drove forward, seeking the exit.

            The optimum outcome that the Captain had sought out was that he and Tony become friends again. At least the point that the Avengers could reunite peacefully. What had happened was that Tony confessed to convoluted romantics, forcing Steve to think of a new way to bridge the gap. Steve chalked it up to physical attraction: the only type of attraction Tony admitted to, man or woman. Fuck the pain away. A song, really. Nothing more.

            The Audi left the parking garage and entered the light of day, blooming so fervently that Tony had to squint. He left his sunglasses in the room. His phone. Oh well.

            He kicked up the volume and tuned to the local rock station. A song about Vietnam lilted through the air. Tony thought of the dreams. The beach. Steve finally having an answer to his question.

            Steve would turn his head. He would grab Tony’s hand, just as he had in front of the TV, and say, “We start over.”

            And oh, how they could never accomplish something as dreamy as hitting a reset button. Tony had prayed for so many years to forget his own love, to leave it behind. But he eventually had to settle for forgiving himself. What could he do but live with these feelings? There was no burying what was not yet dead.

            But even now, there was a surging in Tony’s chest. His spirit frothed forward like the spill of an ocean wave. He sped up. Jarvis gave a general caution. Tony accelerated more, bruise throbbing at his neck, harder than the other abrasions of his body.

            Tony could never start over. But he could begin the process of saving himself, instead of waiting for someone else.

**Author's Note:**

> Sad but hopeful, right? Tony'll be alright. He's a strong dude.
> 
> It took me so damn long to finish this fic... If it meant anything to you, I would highly appreciate comments!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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